


a rose by any other name

by nekrateholic



Category: ONEUS (Band), ONEWE (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Blood, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Robots, Sort of? - Freeform, or humans, there is a lot of blood in this and neither of them are particularly good humans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:13:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28249695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nekrateholic/pseuds/nekrateholic
Summary: Dongju is a lot of the reasons why Geonhak is regarded as one of the most powerful warlocks in town but like all things, power comes at a price.
Relationships: Kim Geonhak | Leedo/Lee Giwook | Cya, Kim Geonhak | Leedo/Son Dongju | Xion, Lee Giwook | Cya/Son Dongju | Xion
Comments: 3
Kudos: 14
Collections: kbas secret santa 2020





	a rose by any other name

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AzcaSky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AzcaSky/gifts).



> [it's gonna be a blackouuuuuuuuut](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lf9K_oGawRw)
> 
> hi! i've never really ventured this far into dark fic but i wanted to throw all your squares in it and somehow this was the only thing that made sense? some squares may be a stretch, i admit, but i'm ready to argue all of them.  
> hope you enjoy :)

“Draw me a bath,” a haughty voice demands. Geonhak suppresses a sigh, turns the page in his notebook with as much noise as a thin sheet of rice paper can make. 

A beat, another.

“I said draw me a bath,” the voice repeats, annoyed this time. There is incessant tapping on the worn out surface of the couch too, and briefly, Geonhak worries about it. It won’t be the first time Dongju has ruined the upholstery because Geonhak didn’t scramble to obey fast enough.

He turns in his chair, slowly, eyes travelling over Dongju’s body sprawled out on his bed. There are rose petals scattered over the pillow, some of them fresh and vibrant red, some duller, some almost wilted. Dongju is losing control over his human form, his skin glowing greener like the oddest blush spreading across his body. It’s almost completely green on his cheeks, his elbows, where his fingers are looking a lot more like thorny leaf stems than human hands. He needs nutrition, that’s for sure but it’s not bad enough to warrant immediate attention and both of them know it.

“Last time I checked you could draw a bath for yourself. You know where all my potions are.” Geonhak huffs, turning back to his notebook but as always, Dongju is faster.

A thin rose cane crawls over the floor and wraps around Geonhak’s ankle, squeezing, all its tiny, vicious thorns digging into the skin. Geonhak can’t suppress the wince where the thorns dig into barely scabbed over wounds but it goes unnoticed anyway.

“Last time I checked,” Dongju says, a smile bright enough that you wouldn’t guess he’s currently drawing blood, “Your magic is the entire reason I’m here, in this stupid plant body so you have to take care of me.”

The pain Geonhak is used to; Dongju is prickly in every sense of the word and it has long since stopped being effective. The guilt, however. That’s something that he should also be used to, probably, and trapping a forest spirit in a vague rose-humanoid body shouldn’t be that weird anyway. Except it’s not just any spirit and Geonhak just had to go and summon the only forest spirit that hates dirt with a burning passion. 

His resolve is crumbling, so is his hope to finish his essay tonight and the rose cane loosens around his ankle because he’s always been easy to read. Or maybe Dongju is especially good at it.

“I don’t hate being here most of the time,” Dongju says, quiet, almost imperceptible but Geonhak hears him anyway. It’s calculated because most things with Dongju are, and it’s followed by a much louder, “You still have to take care of me, though.”

Geonhak ignores it, as he ignores the pain when the thorns in his ankle dig deeper, right before the rose cane loosens and slithers back, disappearing into Dongju’s arms. He’ll need to do laundry after the bath too - he’s almost out of bloodstain-free clothes. So much for finishing the essay today.

*

The cafeteria is eerily silent when Geonhak walks in, even though it’s full of students. It can only mean one thing.

“There has been another killing?” he asks as he sits down, skipping over the food because it doesn’t feel right. Quiet, because it feels like even the slightest noise will break something heavy and fragile hanging in the air.

Youngjo nods. He’s staring off into the distance, somewhere over Geonhak’s shoulder. His eyes are poison yellow, pupils slitted. When he focuses back on Geonhak, they turn normal between one blink and the next. The hand resting over the table is scaled, though. Youngjo is a bit too late to hide it under the table. 

“Sorry,” he says sheepishly, “I’ve been having some trouble maintaining human form.” He runs a normal hand through his hair, then his expression smooths out into a serious one. “They found the body early in the morning. Rumor has it it was missing things this time.”

Geonhak frowns. “There wasn’t anything missing the first time, was it?”

Youngjo sighs. Both his hands are on the table now, both perfectly human. “I hear parents are pushing for the campus to close until the killer is caught.”

“They can’t do that,” Geonhak points out. He’s suddenly glad he didn’t take food with him. “There are too many unstable kids and a lot of them are from non-magical families. If everyone goes home early it would be a disaster.”

No one says anything for a long moment. At last, Youngjo sighs again and looks up at Geonhak with a smile that doesn’t really reach his eyes. “Anyway. Where is your pet plant?”

It startles a laugh out of Geonhak and it rings loud in the quiet hall. He smooths his expression to neutral, waits a moment before he replies, much quieter.

“He stayed behind. I had an essay last night and didn’t pay much attention to him so he’s sulking. He hates being around other humans anyway,” he glances at Youngjo, whose smile is a little more genuine now. “I wonder how he’d react to being called a pet plant, though.”

“I guess we’ll never know,” Youngjo shrugs, smile definitely real now. “It’s not my fault your familiar decided to manifest into a humanoid plant.”

“A rose,” Geonhak corrects. Youngjo is technically right but it feels wrong to call Dongju simply a plant. “How did that quote go? _It is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important._ I have certainly wasted a lot of time on him.”

Youngjo blinks at him. “How many rose related quotes can you say off the top of your head?”

“Fuck you,” Geonhak mumbles in lieu of an answer. Too many is the correct one and what if he deserves Youngjo’s subdued chuckle. Familiars are important and even so, Dongju is just… special. Somehow. Geonhak doesn’t quite enjoy dwelling on it.

*

He’s still dwelling on it as he walks into his apartment just off campus. Being a magical university meant administration tried their best to provide separate housing for magic users with special needs. It’s one thing to house two shifters or a wolf shifter and a witch together but if the shifter occasionally turns into a dragon when he’s upset accommodations need to be made. Youngjo says he broke two windows of the dorm housing before he was given four extra semesters of power control classes and moved into a separate apartment with high ceilings and furniture sturdy enough to take on a few claw marks.

When Geonhak accidentally summoned an extremely powerful familiar into his second year, he was moved to a separate apartment as well. What admin hadn’t expected was for Geonhak to summon a maybe-demon that decided to manifest into a humanoid rose. _Maybe,_ because Dongju refused to admit to his true nature no matter who asked. He was registered as a demon mostly because the administration lady demanded that no regular spirit could be this annoying and disrespectful to another creature. What admin also hadn’t expected was that a creature this annoying and disrespectful would also be this _demanding,_ but maybe they should have. It became very apparent very quickly that mere student housing wouldn’t be nearly enough to accommodate a familiar of Dongju’s caliber. Geonhak had to move out of campus not long after and he can only be grateful his parents could afford to help him out.

It worked out in the end, somewhat. Although no less demanding, a content Dongju was a lot more willing to actually help Geonhak with his magic and soon enough, rumors of what he can do crawled all around the university’s walls, whispers about Geonhak and his odd familiar often residing in the dark corners of the hallways. 

And Dongju - Dongju remains a mystery.

Geonhak’s feelings even more so.

He’s broken out of his thoughts when a few stray rose petals end up squished under his boot. Maybe he would’ve missed them normally, if he was any other person, but autumn is edging into winter, flowers long gone and he is not any other person. He is Kim Geonhak, hypersensitive to roses and the petals he has to clear out of his bed every morning. 

He follows the trail around his apartment building, through the small section of garden that they chose the apartment for. The petals are dispersed in a clear pattern, clumped in places like Dongju has stopped to look at something.

Or rather someone. 

There is a small gazebo at the end of the garden and it’s dark but Geonhak can still make out the two silhouettes in it. 

As he gets closer, the rose buds blooming along Dongju’s arms become visible too, wrapped around a set of shoulders Geonhak doesn’t recognize. 

Dongju definitely hears him approach but he doesn’t seem in a hurry to unlatch his mouth from this unfamiliar person and Geonhak does his best to ignore the weird feeling swirling in his chest. He’s not supposed to have feelings about this. Dongju may be special but there is a reason being intimate with your familiar is not exactly a common thing. Or at least, Geonhak thinks there is. There should be. (It doesn’t matter that he can’t place the feeling as a positive or a negative one either. It doesn’t exist.)

Dongju only sits up once Geonhak reaches the gazebo properly. He gives him a lazy smile, fingers still tangled around this new person, a boy. Geonhak thinks he’s seen him, maybe. Not in his own classes but he’s heard whispers about the kid oddly obsessed with human technology in a school full of magic.

“Hey Geonhak,” Dongju says cheerfully. “This is Giwook. He’s helping me with a thing.”

Geonhak raises an eyebrow. “With what, learning the sins of the flesh?”

Dongju cackles and Giwook is smiling too, at him, and Geonhak feels incredibly silly all of a sudden. 

“I’ve learned those a long time ago,” Dongju says, something Geonhak has never heard before lurking in his voice. “Anyway,” he extracts himself from this Giwook person, finally, and even in the dark Geonhak can see the drops of red beading along Giwook’s cheeks. The odd feeling returns with full force and Geonhak is even more confused.

“Nice to meet you,” Giwook mutters as he gets up, adding a quick bow before he disappears into the night. He’s fast but not fast enough for Geonhak to miss the way his clothes are ripped where Dongju’s thorns dug in.

He only realizes he’s been staring once he turns back and Dongju is looking at him with this insufferable, knowing expression. 

“You seem awfully interested in what we were doing,” Dongju says, that same thing in his voice except amplified by the hundreds this time. There are smudges of red on his lips, like badly applied lipstick except Geonhak knows it’s not that.

It’s not. And he can’t stop staring.

Dongju runs the pads of his fingers along his own lips, then traces Geonhak’s. Geonhak bites his lower lip on instinct and faint as it is, it’s there. Copper, like that one time he got into a fight and swallowed blood instead of saliva as he pushed the guy off himself. That had been Dongju’s fault as well, funnily enough, except it feels different now. It feels a little like Geonhak wanting to chase the taste this time, like-

“That’s not something you do with familiars, no? You said so,” Dongju says, still smiling, perfectly aware of the chaos rattling in Geonhak’s brain. Geonhak is sure of it.

*

“They’re organizing a patrol,” Youngjo says instead of a greeting, the next time they run into each other. “I’m going to join. They’re encouraging all upperclassmen to join, especially the more powerful ones.”

Which means someone is going to find Geonhak soon. He’s still in his third year but there are side effects of being regarded as one of the more powerful magic users on campus. He would’ve joined anyway, which doesn’t mean he’s anticipating being out in the cold almost-winter nights. More importantly, he’s not anticipating being away from Dongju for the majority of his day.

“I caught Dongju making out with someone last night,” he says out loud. Too late, he realizes he never answered Youngjo’s unsaid question but they both know the answer anyway.

Youngjo gives him a look. “And?”

“Nothing,” Geonhak blurts out. “The guy was just… You know that freshman that’s obsessed with humans? With their technology?”

“Ah,” Youngjo nods, like that rationalizes Geonhak’s complicated emotions. “I hear he’s bad news. Rumor mill says that he doesn’t have much magic but enough to cause trouble. I’m sure he can’t harm someone as strong as Dongju but you, on the other hand...”

“I’m also strong,” Geonhak counters. That’s the whole thing.

“Yes, you are,” Youngjo agrees easily. “But your body is mostly human. You bleed just like they do and if I was someone with minimal power and desire for trouble, I wouldn’t be counting on magic to help me.”

It’s a good point, even if Geonhak refuses to admit it out loud. Youngjo has been around long enough that he knows how to pick out the tiny truths out of the rumor mill and Geonhak has no trouble believing him. What he has trouble with is untangling the knots in his stomach each time he thinks about Dongju’s thorns tearing into Giwook’s clothes, maybe his skin. Even more trouble suffocating the tiny voice in his mind insisting that taking Giwook’s place wouldn’t be all that bad.

*

“I’m not happy that you’re going to spend this much time away from me,” Dongju says before Geonhak can even finish his sentence.

“I know,” he sighs. “But two people have died now, right? We can’t let this keep happening or campus may need to close. There are people who can’t really go back home.”

“I don’t care,” Dongju states, voice void of any emotion. “Maybe they just had to die and the killer is done now.”

Geonhak bites into his bottom lip. He’s somewhat emotionally detached as well, he didn’t know any of the victims but still, Dongju’s words are a reminder of just how non-human he is. 

“Imagine I was one of the victims,” Geonhak starts carefully. “If I was gone and you had to go back home because your bond was broken.”

“But you’re not,” Dongju insists. He seems to consider it for a moment. “Going home would solve some of my problems. Although if you were permanently gone I suppose I would be upset as well.”

“There you go,” Geonhak says. He doesn’t bother questioning the rest of the sentence. All the time spent having Dongju around has taught him it’s nothing but a waste of breath.

*

Patrol duties begin as soon as possible at the dean’s insistence. Geonhak gets paired up with Youngjo which is a relief because he trusts Youngjo but at the same time, he has no excuse to get lost in his own head. Maybe it’s for the better. His attention is demanded for something other than Dongju. For once.

“I heard some professors say that the killings may be a ritual gone wrong,” Youngjo says on their third round around the school garden. “Apparently the two dead kids shared some classes.”

“What about the missing organs?” Geonhak asks without thinking. He’s not particularly sure he wants to know the answer.

Youngjo shrugs. “They didn’t say anything about that. I don’t think they have an idea either.”

It’s about that moment when Geonhak realizes the real downside of having Youngjo with him. Or maybe a blessing? Because ahead of them, in the distance, he can see two figures - one painfully familiar and the other one he wished wasn’t. Recognizing Dongju anywhere, anytime, even, especially in the dark is nothing new but Giwook is. Geonhak remembers the slope of his hands where they were clutched around Dongju’s waist and the way his hair fell into his eyes and-

He tugs Youngjo in the opposite direction, startling him out of whatever he was saying.

“Sorry,” Geonhak mumbles. “I think I saw something move there.”

Youngjo looks a little miffed, then apprehensive when a cluster of bushes does move next to them. It’s Geonhak that startles this time, a protection spell whipping around them on instinct, right before the bushes move again and a pair of eyes flash at them through the leaves.

“It’s a cat,” Youngjo laughs, harder when the kitty pushes through the bushes, gives them a haughty look and stalks off.

Geonhak laughs along, forced and breathless. He could swear the cat’s eyes glowed with a light no regular cat should possess and the look. The look. It’s funny how one can find the similarities between the way an animal and a human looks at you, if they know what to look for. Or a humanoid rose, in Geonhak’s case.

When another team finds the new body, once again gutted, right in the direction Geonhak saw Dongju and Giwook coming from, he has to swallow around the bile in his throat. That’s what he blames for not saying anything .

*

An official looking lady tells them that it’s extremely unlikely for the killer to strike twice within the same night so the volunteers are allowed to go home. Geonhak waves off Youngjo’s offer to walk with him. The thoughts rattling in his brain are way too loud for company.

By the time he reaches his apartment block he’s almost managed to convince himself that the Dongju and Giwook he saw back there were merely a byproduct of constantly thinking about them. That, in itself, is admission but Geonhak would rather unravel his denials one at a time. 

He’s so deep in thought, in fact, that he almost misses the movement just south of his apartment building. Maybe it’s latent adrenaline from the patrol or maybe the thought of Dongju up there, alone, but Geonhak is on the stranger in a heartbeat, slamming him into the ground with his magic first and his hands following right after. 

In a rush, he realizes that the amused eyes looking up at him are not unfamiliar. The cuts around them are not unfamiliar either, both the old and the fresh ones. The rush passes but adrenaline is still coursing through his veins and he pushes the hand at Giwook’s throat harder instead of letting up.

Giwook’s breath stutters but his smile only gets wider. Geonhak may not have known this boy until a few days ago but the hatred burning in his gut doesn’t care.

“What are you really doing with Dongju? What are you doing _to_ him?” He hisses, pushing harder still and Giwook chokes this time. Something in Geonhak finally stirs, some distant part that still has its common sense intact but the cloud of _fear-hatred-anticipation_ is larger, all-consuming. He doesn’t let go.

“Shouldn’t you be asking what he is doing to me?” Giwook wheezes, then chokes again. He makes no move to throw Geonhak off of him, to get free. 

Seems to enjoy it, in fact.

The thought knocks into Geonhak’s brain like a badly controlled toy car and _the cloud_ dissipates like cotton candy left in the sun. He lets go of Giwook within seconds, makes to get up and away so that no parts of them would be touching, even on accident. Of course, his brilliant plan is ruined when Giwook’s hand shoots up to grab him by the elbow and pull him right back. Geonhak manages to stop himself before he flops right back on Giwook but the arm on his elbow tightens, painfully, so he settles for kneeling over Giwook instead.

“Fascinating, isn’t it?” Giwook says slowly. There are thorns stuck all over his hoodie which Geonhak only notices when Giwook takes one out and stabs it in the pad of his thumb without warning. His eyes follow the drop of blood beading on his finger and even as he hates himself for it, Geonhak follows it too. It earns him a knowing smile, then that same finger is tracing over his lips, no doubt smearing blood all over them. 

He’s let go then, finally, and the strain of holding himself as far from Giwook as he can propels him back, landing him on his butt, in the grass, definitely not as far away as he’d like.

Giwook flops back on the ground and stays there, smiling. With rising horror, Geonhak watches as the smiles escalate into bit off hiccups, then proper laughter, loud and unbidden. In a flash, Giwook sits up in the grass, his eyes burning holes in Geonhak’s face. 

“You’re an interesting one,” he says in a voice that doesn’t really tell whether it’s a compliment or mockery. 

He wipes his hands off on the grass before he sits up and Geonhak can only stare, frozen in place as Giwook walks off without a second glance back.

The grass is stained where Giwook’s hands were, both of them, and somehow Geonhak knows that if he points his phone’s flashlight on it, the stains would be red. 

He doesn’t.

*

“We need to talk,” is the first thing Geonhak tells Dongju, as soon as the front door closes behind him.

Dongju is lounging on the sofa, as she often is when Geonhak has been gone for long and he needs a proper spotlight to sulk in. Their living room lights have been arranged with that specific purpose in mind.

But Dongju isn’t sulking right now. Instead, he’s looking at Geonhak curiously, a little knowing. “Why do I have a feeling you’ve ran into someone on the way here?”

“I saw you there,” Geonhak says instead of a reply. “I saw both of you.”

“I’m not sure what you think you saw. I spent the afternoon helping Giwook to do me a favor.” Dongju shrugs. He gives Geonhak an unreadable look, then twirls until his feet are over the backrest of the sofa, head hanging upside down. Geonhak winces for the upholstery.

He doesn’t want to ask the question. But then again, he does. 

“And does this favor happen to include murder?”

Dongju’s sharp eyes are back on him in a heartbeat, expression hard. “I did not kill anyone.”

If there’s one thing Geonhak has learned during his time spent with Dongju, it’s that he never lies for the important things. This feels important, and the fear gripping Geonhak’s heart lets up somewhat.

“And Giwook?”

Dongju shrugs again, absently kicking his feet in the air. “I don’t look like a Giwook, do I? We simply have an arrangement.”

“And this arrangement includes sleeping with him?” Geonhak breathes out before he can stop himself.

Dongju’s eyes are once more on him, sharp as ever. He rearranges himself the right side up this time, though, and Geonhak swallows the urge to take a step back. 

“It’s mostly for fun. But I guess you could say that,” Dongju says. He shuffles over to one side of the sofa and Geonhak follows the silent command without thinking. “Are you jealous, Geonhakkie? Or did you forget you’re not supposed to touch your familiars like that?”

“I-”

But Geonhak doesn’t get to finish, because suddenly Dongju is no longer next to him but on him, all thorns and pointy branches and rose petals falling off his hair and into Geonhak’s eyes.

“I could show you,” Dongju says, barely above a whisper. He takes Geonhak's hand and guides it under the loose shirt he’s wearing, over the thorns that catch on Geonhak’s skin. “I can show you what he’s doing for me and I can show you what I’m doing to him but I need to know you love me more than your silly human morality.”

_It’s not silly, it’s-_

But like a lot of his thoughts tonight, this one dissipates before it can truly form. It was a cold night to be out and Geonhak still has one of his thicker hoodies on. Dongju slices it in half with no effort at all. His fingers trail down Geonhak’s chest, over his heart and down his stomach. He leans down, lips brushing on a spot on Geonhak’s abdomen, right before his thorns dig in. Geonhak squeezes, hard, stray thorns digging into his palm but Dongju doesn’t falter. The cut is a pattern, that much Geonhak can tell, even if he can’t focus enough to follow it. 

“A star,” Dongju says softly, running a finger through the blood pooling on Geonhak’s stomach. “A guiding star. So it can guide you to me, always.” 

Dongju gently slides Geonhak’s hand out of his shirt, kisses his fingers where the skin is ruined then brings them to his chest. He leans down, breath ghosting over Geonhak’s lips like a promise.

It _is_ a promise, fulfilled not long after. There are drops of blood coating Dongju’s fingers as he moves his hands to Geonhak’s shoulders instead but he no longer feels the scratches. Despite the thorns in his skin, Dongju’s kisses are sweet and overwhelming, so easy to get lost in. The pain is too, where Dongju’s thorns dig into his thighs with each movement, hardly enough to break skin for once but there nonetheless. A distant part of him is screaming that this shouldn’t happen, can’t happen but the voice is getting quieter by the second and Geonhak finds he quite enjoys being lost.

When the final wall of his rational mind crumbles under Dongju's fingertips, all that’s left is the star burning through his skin and _Dongju, Dongju, Dongju._

*

“This is great, actually,” Dongju says gleefully the next night. 

Geonhak calls out of patrol, under the pretense of not feeling well and it’s a testament to how off he must have looked the night before that Youngjo doesn’t even question it. 

He heaves a sigh when Dongju doesn’t continue, watching him expectantly instead. “What is?”

Dongju squeezes his hand, thorns digging into the skin with vengeance. “Your timing! You caught up just in time for the big reveal. Well, maybe a bit later but _some creatures_ would need time to adjust to the human world anyway. I told Giwook you’re fun, somewhere under all that righteousness.” He glances at Geonhak, the mischief in his eyes something familiar, for once. “I didn’t expect you’d give in so fast, though. Maybe I should’ve brought Giwook around sooner.”

“He’s not the reason I… did anything,” Geonhak finishes lamely. He’s not. He’s not, even if the phantom touch of Giwook’s fingers is still burning on Geonhak’s lips.

He refuses to acknowledge the rest of Dongju’s words. The… creature. He doesn’t want to know, even if he will, eventually. Dongju has never been too fond of giving choices.

“Sure,” Dongju nods, in that voice you indulge children with. “Although me being the reason for your grand downfall is also a very good option.”

Geonhak ignores the implication, as he does the memories of what they did last night. Or this morning? He doesn’t really remember when he got back apart from it being still dark. It’s the little things, he decides. Focusing on the time he got home is a lot easier than thinking about what he did right before and right after. But then again, what’s done is done and the him of before, of yesterday, that was so adamant about abiding to norm and customs is merely a distant voice, barely noticeable over the sound of Dongju’s laughter.

He wonders if this is how the proverbial sinner feels like. They may not follow the same religion but sin is the same anywhere, no matter under which name.

They soon reach a house, a small but beautiful building that has definitely seen better days. It’s located way off campus, far enough into the town that the volunteer patrol would never think to come. That’s what Geonhak is thinking as Dongju takes the two steps to the front door and swings it open like he owns the place. It’s entirely possible that he does.

He leads them through a cluttered kitchen straight to a door that looks far too gloomy to be anything but a basement. Dongju swings that open too and takes the steps two at a time, letting Geonhak follow at his own pace for once. It’s a good thing - there is barely any light this far up the stairs.

The first thing he sees when he steps off the stairs is metal. There are pieces of it everywhere; some sharp and some curved, jagged or cut into precise little squares. There are other things too - wires and cables and a whole bunch of modern human technology that Geonhak is sure he wouldn’t be familiar with even if he was actually human. The basement is surprisingly spacious for a house of this size but it only takes seconds for him to feel the magic fluttering along the edges of the wall. It’s strong, way stronger than Geonhak could ever dream of creating. Extending a space is one thing but this place is not that. It’s here but also not and Geonhak has the distant feeling that if it weren’t for Dongju leading him into this house, into this room, he would’ve found something very different.

At last, he takes a look around the room itself. The first thing he notices, somewhat predictably, is Giwook. He’s already watching him, leaning against a table with an expression caught somewhere between curiosity and disdain. 

And then… then there is the thing.

It looks human but looks is a key word here. Geonhak may have grown up with magic but robots are something even he was interested in as a kid. He imagines this is how the supposed fancy robots look like in their humans’ fancy labs. It’s surprisingly accurate too, if you look past the shiny metal where skin should be. Even though that is there too. Skin. It stretches over the thing’s face, a harsh line right across the middle where skin and metal meet. It has some over its shoulder too, running down one arm. The rest of the robot is bare steel, even if carved to perfection. Geonhak can’t be sure, has trouble adding color to the parts that lack skin but from here, it feels like the face looks a little like Dongju’s does, when he makes an attempt to look human.

“Beautiful, isn’t he?” Giwook says, walking over to trace a finger over the robot’s nose. It’s almost entirely steel, the skin reaching only a small corner of it. 

Dongju huffs. “I wanted him to look exactly like me but Giwook fucked up.”

“Did you ever consider I don’t want to deal with two of you?” Giwook asks, eyes on Dongju now and full of amusement.

“Please,” Dongju rolls his eyes. He walks over to the robot as well, cups its cheek. “I am a delight and so is he.”

“And yet you wanted me to be a carbon copy of yourself,” a new voice says and all of a sudden, Geonhak feels like a fool.

Because the voice does not belong to a robot even if it’s coming from mechanical lips. This _creature,_ Geonhak realizes with a sinking feeling, is a lot more than a fancy human toy. 

“You see, Geonhakkie, I wasn’t alone back at home,” Dongju starts turning to face Geonhak as his hand trails down to hold the creature’s. “But not many people can summon someone like me, you know? So I had to find alternatives to bring dear sweet Dongmyeong here to keep me company.”

“Spirits can’t use inanimate objects as vessels,” Geonhak rattles off on instinct, because it’s the first thing they teach them before they attempt to summon familiars. They need something alive to latch onto.

But _alive_ is a complicated term. If you’re good enough, in certain circumstances, you can prolong the life force of something that has been alive once even if it no longer is. Like for example, taking someone’s heart and letting it beat in a ribcage made of metal, alive even if the person it belonged to isn’t.

Geonhak’s eyes snap back to Giwook, then to Dongju. “You said you didn’t kill them.”

“Did I?” Dongju laughs, sweet and twinkly and so unlike someone that has so much blood on his hands. “Who knows, maybe my kind are known for lying.”

“We are,” the thing, no, Dongmyeong? That’s what Dongju had called him. Geonhak wonders when he stopped being an it. Dongmyeon smiles at him, full of perfectly silver teeth. “He wasn’t lying to you, though. I did it and they just did the leg work for me. Sitting around in the underworld can get boring, especially while knowing your favorite baby brother is out in the world, having fun. I wanted in on the fun.”

“We were literally created from the same soul splitting in half,” Dongju grumbles but it goes unnoticed.

 _No ghosts are truly evil,_ the voice of Geonhak’s grandma echoes in his head. _But if you live your life a certain way, your soul will forget the light so thoroughly that the darkness will bear its children._

Looking at Dongmyeong and Dongju now, Geonhak wants to laugh at eight year old him, rolling his eyes at a silly myth. It was a warning.

But it makes sense, in Geonhak’s head, in some sick way. If the rumors are true, Giwook isn’t all that powerful when it comes to magic; he couldn’t have summoned an entity this powerful on his own. Even with Dongju’s help, it probably took some trial-and-error for them to find the right way. The drained body. The one with the missing heart and the one with the missing… everything. Trial, error. Success.

“You killed them,” Geonhak breathes, staring at Giwook now. There is no humanity in Dongju or Dongmyeong but they’re not _human._ Giwook is. 

“I didn’t kill anyone,” Giwook says, calm, so infuriatingly calm. “I just did what I had to do.”. A pause, then, voice still unnervingly calm, “Sometimes I imagine I did do it, though.”

There is no hesitation about it, no hint of regret. Geonhak isn’t quite sure what it is exactly that’s stopping Giwook from walking out of this room and taking the life of the first person unlucky enough to cross his path. It would be a messy ordeal and if he closes his eyes, he’ll probably see the puddles of blood, the torn flesh. Their hearts would soon beat anew in Dongmyeong’s mechanic chest, held together by steel and magic. Maybe this is what drew Dongju to Giwook of all people. Geonhak wonders what drew Dongju to him.

In the present, he doesn’t close his eyes and Giwook doesn’t look away. The same part of him that’s glad Giwook isn’t necessarily behind the murders is shamelessly excited by the river of blood Geonhak _does not see._

“Exciting, isn’t it?” Dongju giggles to the side. It’s enough to startle Geonhak out of his stupor, glance away enough to see Dongju snuggling under Dongmyeong’s arm, the steel one. He looks up into the human part of his face. “They’re adorable together.”

“Was that your plan all along?” Dongmyeong’s voice comes and it’s still a surprise, a voice so soft coming from a half-machine. Dongmyeon’s more human hand reaches out to ruffle Dongju’s hair and Dongju preens under the touch.

“What can I say, I like all my favorite things in one place.”

Giwook is still watching him, when Geonhak tears his eyes away from the twins. There’s a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth now, a tiny thing full of words that Geonhak hopes he’ll never hear. A knife has made its way into his hand when Geonhak wasn’t looking. Long and sharp, its handle moulded around Giwook’s fingers like it was made to be there.

“I could show you,” Giwook says slowly, each word drawn out in a way that leaves no doubt of its meaning. He runs a finger along his blade and Geonhak can’t look away from the drops of blood it leaves behind.

“Please,” he breathes before his brain catches up. A small part of him rationalizes it as a sacrifice - if Giwook is busy with him there is less of a chance for him to go out and do harm. 

The bigger, louder part of him is already submitting to the images in his brain and the glee in Giwook’s eyes as he takes a step closer.

The star carved in his abdomen burns and distantly, Geonhak wonders where exactly is it guiding him. Whether he can come back. It’s the star Giwook’s blade touches first, cutting the wound open once again and right before Giwook’s thoughts leave him once and for all, he decides that no. This is not a path he can come back from.


End file.
